You Don't Like Me & I Don't Like You
by popuriFFic
Summary: The only way for Cartman to win the girl of his dreams is by helping his mortal enemy, Kyle Broflovski, obtain the man of his. Now they must work together to break up Stan and Wendy in the worst of possible ways: by dating each other. ON-HIATUS.
1. prologue

_notes from the author_:

_pairings_:

Style ~ everyone's OTP (I mean come on, it's practically canon). mushy, sickening-sweet luv.

Candy ~ I fucking love Candy, even if they ARE straight.

Kebe ~ Barbie & Ken. blonde stoner sluts. they are just here for support in this fic, though. they're too high all the time to do anything substantial.

Kyman & Stendy ~ only there to piss off everyone else and provide us with a plot.

This is equally SLASH and equally HET. so if you hate slash or hate het, you will NOT like this unless you skip all the parts containing what you don't like.

_ratings/warnings_:

will be changed to M because, yes, everyone gets to graphically fuck each others brains out in the end. that's the reason you're all reading, right?

will probably be changed to M a lot sooner than that, though, because...

also contains illegal drugs (pot duh), underage alcohol abuse (highschool duh), probably domestic violence? (this _is_ Cartman and Wendy)

and yeah, just lots of swearing. I swear a lot. these are teenaged South Park kids we're dealing with, I'm not going to censor their dirty mouths.

* * *

_dedication_:

to Trey & Matt:

"you have been a cont-

a cont-

a cont-

a connntt-

a continuing source of inspiration to me"

* * *

you don't like me & I Don't Like You

* * *

**prologue**

* * *

Eric Cartman loved Wendy Testaburger.

Nothing about this made any sense, because he hated everything about Wendy Testaburger.

He hated her shrill, screechy, squawk of a voice which was immediately distinguishable in a crowd as being _hers_. No matter the effort Cartman made, no matter how far away he attempted to sit from her in every class and during every cafeteria lunch and every weekend party, her voice cut through the others in the crowd like an arrow straight from Cupid himself, and found him. Then it was impossible to tune out. Her laugh made him shudder, that little giggle made his spine curl, and the way she said his name made his fists ball up on instinct.

Then, there was her hat. Perhaps the worst thing about Wendy was the too-small, bright purple beret she insisted on wearing every damn day. I mean seriously, a beret? This was South Park, Colorado! While all the other girls wore the more practical hats or headbands to cover their ears from the cold, in strolled Wendy, on even the snowiest of mornings, wearing a beret like she's prepared for a midnight walk on a god damned Paris beach or some shit. French people pissed him off, and so did she.

And her _size_. She was a puny, insignificant, five foot nothing wuss, skinny as a bag of bones since she refused to eat meat, or dairy, or anything else that was GOOD for you. It bothered him that she was even still _alive_ after surviving on so little. He wanted to do away with her with one blow of the meaty underside of his hand, just smack her into a row of lockers and scare the snotty shit right out of her. But no, society looked down on such things as being a "woman beater". Fucking assholes. That was just one more reason for him to (eventually) take over the world.

Eric Cartman hated everything about Wendy Testaburger. He hated every little annoying, insolent quality she possessed. He hated it all so much that, soon, it was all he thought about.

Eric Cartman loved Wendy Testaburger. He had to have her.

* * *


	2. take my hand

* * *

you don't like me & I Don't Like You

* * *

chapter one

* * *

_(the plan)_ **take my hand**

* * *

"Pass the peas, Kyle dear."  
"Huh?"

The sound of his mother's voice snapped Kyle from his daydreams. Well, if you could even call them day-dreams. More like day... -nightmares.

"The peas, Kyle," Shelia replied, rather impatiently.  
"Oh. Yeah." Kyle grabbed the bowl and passed them down the table. His mother raised a sculpted red eyebrow at her son's seemingly permanent residence in lala~land, but said nothing to disturb their family's peace ('Teenagers,' she silently sighed).

*

Kyle did return there straight afterwards, pushing vegetables around his plate with his fork to make them look eaten, but rarely ever actually taking a bite. Fucking peas tasted like shit, anyway. Green shit. He picked one up off the plate and rolled it between his fingers, his fingertips applying just enough pressure to squeeze out the mashed up green insides. Yes. As usual, he was consumed by his own problems.

He day-dozed in and out of reality, dreaming of the object of his affections: Stan's naked torso in all it's glory tortured his thoughts. And try as he may, nothing gave his lust of another woman's man any rest.

Such a little emo kid, he was; it made him sick to look at what he'd become. But apparently even the most rational of minds can't escape the effect of hormones released by the mind of a pubescent boy in love.

... 'a boy in love'? God-dammit, he really was a fag.

*

Something dared to interrupt his self-pity again; this time it was a vibration against his thigh. A text. From who? It didn't matter. Long ago, Kyle had given Stan's number it's own special ringtone so he would know when a text was from him, and didn't have to get his hopes up when his phone rang only to discover it had been someone else messaging him instead.

Since he was having family dinner, and therefore had nothing better to do, he reached into his pocket for his phone only a few moments after it buzzed. What he saw caused him to drop his fork to his plate with a loud clang of metal that caused everyone seated to look over at him.  
The text was from... Cartman?

CARTMAN CELL: **kyle, meet me at stark's pond immediately. i have a proposition for you.**

Kyle blinked hard, re-reading the text for good measure. **meet me at stark's pond**. Cartman wanted to meet him in a secluded area in the middle of the dark evening? He rose from his chair, more scared of not going than going. This had to be about something.

"May I be excused?" he asked his startled family, not taking his eyes from his phone.  
Shelia, noticing her son's strange behavior, decided to just let him go. Kyle wasn't waiting for her permission anyway, already heading towards the door to pull his boots.

"Teenagers," she shook her head, stuffing her open mouth with a fork full of peas.

* * *

Cartman stood by the water, skipping rocks across Stark's Pond.

Or atleast that's what it looked like, from an outsider's point of view. Upon closer inspection, it was clear he wasn't skipping the rocks across, but rather throwing them in, trying to knock the unsuspecting fish unconscious.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath as a particularly big one swam away, the green scales of his tail briefly breaking the surface of the water.

This wasn't the reason he came here today, though; no, he had a much more poignant purpose. The rock hucking was merely a way to pass the time.

Where the fuck was Kyle, anyway? It was almost 7:30 and he hadn't even been home yet, having come to the pond straight from school. He picked up a larger one and hurled it with a huff of breath, hoping to get the fish who had previously gotten away.

Cartman had a plan (he usually did); the problem was, he wasn't absolutely certain that this particular plan would work (he usually was). It was a good plan, yes. It was accident-proof, from any theoretical point of view. But then that _was_ the problem with matters of the heart; nothing was ever as clean and simple as it worked out to be on paper. Try as he might, he hadn't worked out a perfect solution for controlling the feelings of others.

If he had, he could have been home instead of freezing his ass off at this stupid lake forcing himself to think for the past 5 hours.

But he was determined, and for this plan, he had high hopes.

* * *

Kyle entered the clearing, the look on his face reading as both terrified and also curious. Despite the cold, sweat collected on his forehead, tiny red curls crushed against it under the brim of his hat. Cartman wondered if he ran here in a hurry, or if he was just nervous. Either way, just the sight of him made him all the more confident that this was going to work.

"Kyle."

"Yes?"

"You don't like me."

"Correct."

"And I don't like you."

"Right."

"But there are things I dislike even more than I dislike you."

"Shocking."

"And there are things you want, even more than you want me to suffer."

"... I doubt that."

"Stan."

Kyle's excuses dried up. He looked at Cartman, shocked, and once he regained enough of his composure to reply, Cartman was two steps ahead of him.

"I-I don't kn--"

Cartman dismissed Kyle's protest with a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes. "I don't like Stan! I'm not a butt munching homo! 'Sick, dude!'," Cartman imitated Kyle in a voice that was shockingly on point: whiny and defensive and less nasally than his own. "I know, I know. Can we skip this part? My mom's making chicken pot pie for dinner and I'd like to be done here and home eating it as soon as possible."

Kyle's cheeks had begn to glow with an angry shade of red. he gritted his teeth. "You don't need any chicken pot pie, you fat piece of shit! Now tell me what the hell you want!"

"You need my help."

"I don't need shit from you, fat boy!"

"'ay! I've had enough of your fat jabs, you jew-pirate-cock-sucking-firecrotched faggot!"

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Balling his fists, Kyle rose from the bench he was sitting on. "I'm out of here."

"Now now now Kahl, lets not get pushy. I know you have a big night ahead of sitting at home doodling 'Mrs. Kahl Marsh' on your binders or some shit."

"God I want to beat the living shit out of you, Cartman."

"I know. Too bad you're like 90 pounds. Now sit the fuck down because I wasn't finished my speech."

* * *

and so Cartman told him what he'd come up with so far. He told him what he'd have to do and why it would work, and basically, was promising that Stan would dump his girlfriend for Kyle if Kyle just did exactly what Cartman said to do. It was everything Kyle had ever asked god for, all wrapped up with a ribbon on it, laying at his feet.

... except he knew better than to trust a wolf in sheep's clothing, though right now he realized ignorance truly was bliss. How he wished he could throw his whole heart and faith into this idea, because the outcome had the possibility for the ultimate payoff...

*

"What are you getting out of this? Why do you want to help me get Stan so badly?"

"None of your god damned business! I get something out of it a'right?"

"You're just going to try and make our lives hell, aren't you? Just setting up the pins so you can knock them down!"

"Stop being so fucking paranoid, god. You sure sound like a fag." Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down, shutting his eyes in an attempt to shut out the world, if only for a moment. "I already told you. There are people I hate in this world more than I hate you Kahl. Don't flatter yourself; I have more important things which to occupy my time. You fuckers aren't that amusing. Why play with you?"

*

Cartman had a point. He was always scheming on a larger scale, conducting plans for fame, money, world domination... it was a little out of character for him to care this much about destroying Kyle's life. There was no way Cartman _hated_ Kyle more than he _loved_ to gain something else. He wouldn't waste his time and call Kyle all the way out to Stark's Pond if there wasn't something serious to be gained here.

Kyle was miserable watching Stan and Wendy together. Honestly, what did he have to lose?

"Okay. I'll do it."

Only his dignity, Kyle thought to himself.

*

Cartman's eyes lit up, his hazel irises infusing with gold specks of wonder. "Excellent. You can go now, Kahl. Thank you for your assistance." Cartman extended his hand, presumably so Kyle would shake it. Kyle just looked at him sideways.

"... I am not shaking your hand."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "For fucks sakes Kahl, how else do you seal a business deal? It's a sign of respect you greedy little jew-rat."

Kyle angered. "It's probably a trick, like everything else you do! That's why!"

Cartman sighed. "Kahl, if you can't even take my hand now, how are you going to do it in front of the whole school tomorrow?"

"............. What?"

* * *

please review! encouragement islove.


	3. school days

thanks so much for the reviews and favs; you guys rock, & etc. little comments are soo nice they make me die. heeehe. this is a two part chapter, and afterwards, the rating will be M! yaay porn! so if you like the story please alert so you don't lose it when we switch over!

i love you guys! and of course i love trey & matt, my beautiful muses, who own all this stuff and so on. xo

* * *

you don't like me & I Don't Like You

* * *

chapter two|I

* * *

**school days**

* * *

Stan Marsh was naked.

Thick clouds of warm steam made their way towards him, flowing from behind the sliding glass door of the still-running shower in the background. They licked themselves up the sides of Stan's legs and worked up, surrounding his bare torso like a warm hug from the wind.

Tufts of stringy, straight, blue-black hair (well mostly black, but still a little blue. Usually only in the sunlight) hung in wet clumps. Bangs were longer over his left eye, and the strands clung to each other, connected by the natural affinity H2O particles have towards each other, to mask the eye completely. His other eye was bright and blue, singular droplets of water clinging to long, dark eyelashes. They batted themselves at Kyle. Drops fell from his wet hair and shimmied down his perfect face, past the freckles splattered on his cheeks, down the side of his straight nose, and to the center of his thin, wide smile.

He was so beautiful, yet in a way that was still so left-of-center; that's what made him perfect. Actually, what made Stan really _perfect_ was the fact that he didn't know it. At all.

And that Kyle couldn't have him. Of course.

As drops of water cascaded down Stan's chin, Kyle's eyes followed them. They connected like the positive and negative sides of a magnet, drawing his pupils down Stan's beautiful, long, lean body built for sin as the water explored his torso the way Kyle's fingertips longed to. The droplets slid down his chest, between his two pectorals, and into the grooves of his chiseled stomach; Kyle could see all those hours Stan had spent at the gym to sharpen his abdominals that way.

Like a statue, he was, his skin like the smoothest, whitest porcelain, except he was _warm,_ and much more beautiful. He was more beautiful than any earthly work of art; Stan was sculpted by god himself.

It was a body he had seen so many times throughout their lifelong friendship, a body he should feel comfortable with, and yet he still saw it here with an air of unfamiliarity. Just _seeing_ wasn't enough to _know_ the body of another. It needed to be felt, to be touched with the unbounded freedom one gives only to a lover.

Down down down, the droplets trickled. Past the sides of his arms, his belly button, sliding further down to his--

"BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP."

*

Kyle gritted his teeth so hard he almost bit his tongue. Fucking Cartman!

"'ay, watch where you're going! Fucking chinks!" He flipped his signal in haste and revved the gas, pulling past a silver Sedan in front of them and leaving Kyle gripping at his seat belt in scrambly terror.

Okay. So maybe Kyle shouldn't be fantasizing about naked wet Stan coming out of the shower. Well, not on days when Cartman drives him to school.

"God-damned _fucking_ foreigners should NOT be allowed to drive," Cartman seethed.

"Christ dude! It was just an old lady."

"Them too. Women drivers are the fucking worst."

*

Today was one of the only days of his highschool life where he hadn't walked to school. It used to be the four of them at that bus stop every morning, but things change as you get older, Kyle supposed. Stan & Kenny still walked with him, sometimes, but usually they got rides to school with their girlfriend's moms (the girls never had to walk to school. Stupid spoiled whores).

and (speaking of stupid spoiled whores) Cartman NEVER walked to school anymore. His mom bought him his own car the day he learned to drive. His car was something he usually didn't let anyone forget about. He drove to school alone everyday, usually driving right past Kyle & whoever he was walking with, with his windows down, and his state-of-the-art sound system blaring.

Well, the odd time he might drive with someone else, but it was always for a price. and on those days he did drive Kenny, Stan, Bebe, Craig, or anyone else to school, the price was always drugs (the windows were rolled up on those days...)

Not that Cartman couldn't afford his own, but it was the principle of the thing: don't pay for something you can get for free. This was a principle that Cartman assured Kyle that HE should understand. _"Having the genetic programming of a fucking Jew, after all!"_

Cartman grinned, and his scarf did a poor job of concealing all of his chins. He looked a little differently from childhood (Kyle supposed they all did) but of all of them, Cartman looked the most similar. His chubby little red cheeks and toothy, malicious smile were classic to Cartman's persona. Kyle was the only one who seemed to notice this, however, because everyone still hung around with him for some reason. He may be tall now, less fat, and more... _big_. But he was still the same pussy-ass Cartman, in Kyle's eyes.

But he would never say that, of course, because Cartman's girth now served a much more functional purpose. Because now Cartman could beat him within an inch of his life. and god, that would not be an enjoyable way to die.

*

"So Kaaahl. How you like my ride?"

Kyle had never been inside Cartman's car before. He hated himself for feeling... privileged. Everything inside was black leather, and there were built in DVD players, PSP chargers, and cell phone ports installed in the front. The windows were tinted black.

"It's nice," he finally admitted. "Really nice." Kyle let his head rest back on the black leather headrest.

"Yeah, no fucking shit," grinned Cartman.

They pulled into the school parking lot in what felt like seconds later, probably due to the intensely high speeds Cartman insisted on driving at. Kyle clicked off his seatbelt and moved to open the door handle, but it was locked. He looked at Cartman, who had no seatbelt (he hadn't even put his on to begin with). He didn't move to click the power lock to unlock the door. He merely sat calmly back in the seat.

"Okay Kahl, there's a few things to go over before we start this."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Cartman, we've been over the plan a million times," Kyle huffed, recalling their MSN conversations the previous evening, during which they had discussed just exactly what the 'rules' were.

"I need to make one thing clear. I'll be turning on the charm, starting now. I'll be saying things to you... things you have never heard, and acting in ways that are new, new and frightening." Kyle widened his eyes, and Cartman cut to the chase. "You very well may fall in love with me Kahl, but you must remember to keep your wits about you. I'm not gay, I never will be, and if I was frankly I could do a lot better than you."

"Cartman, I'm not going to fall in love with you."

"Right. Keep telling yourself that, and stay strong."

"God you are an egotistical piece of shit." Kyle moped so hard a thought bubble could have appeared above his head reading 'Why, oh why, did I agree to this?'.

"I'm just _saying_ that you don't know what it's like when I turn it on."

"I'll be fine." Kyle deadpanned. Cartman was no longer paying attention, his eyes scanning the crowd for one purple beret in particular...

"They're here!" he exclaimed.

"Whose here?" Kyle asked.

"They are! ...everyone, I mean. and Stan is here." Kyle's ears did prick up at this. "C'mon lets do this."

... easier said than done, they both realized.

*

Cartman hit the power locks and slid himself out of the car (not always the easiest of tasks). Kyle waited nervously, eyes fixated on him through the glass of the windshield. Cartman looked both ways from behind his dark sunglasses, taking one last survey of who was around before opening the door to reveal Kyle to the school.

He extended his pudgy mittened hand in Kyle's direction, and Kyle froze. The gloved hand hissed at him, fingers extending forward like the snakes of Medusa herself; he was frozen in his tracks.

"Kahl, get your shit together," Cartman said through his teeth. He reached forward and literally yanked Kyle out of his seat. A small gasp escaped his swollen red lips and he was pulled out of a seated position to his feet, next to the giant before him.

and Cartman didn't let go of his hand. Oh man. Here it goes...

*

Cartman held Kyle to him with one hand, and held his jacket and electronic key in the other. Flipping the coat over his shoulder, he hit the button on the key in his hand and the horn sounded, the same sound as before, but this time, only for a brief moment.

"BLEEEP."

The car officially locked, chaining Kyle's only hope of escaping his impending humiliation inside. And they sauntered towards their lifelong peers, hand-in-hand.

*

There he was.

Stan.

With his mouth dropped open down to his fucking knees.

Despite the comedic amusement the scene provided to Cartman, Kyle somehow looked as if he were to be ill all over his faggy little skateboard shoes. He didn't understand _why_. Stan was completely ignoring his whore and had all his attention on Kyle. This should be exactly what that pussy-ass jew wanted! But, then again, this virgin-ass-queer was probably too fucking dumb to realize what Stan's reactions event meant, Cartman thought to himself.

He had seen all of them stare, all of his lifelong "friends". Some had been staring just as blatantly as Stan (although _they_ were much less emotionally affected; more shocked). Some of those still-anonymous girls viciously searched for their Blackberrys to spread the word to the others. Some of the cooler ones were laughing and smiling to themselves about the absurdity of it all.

But not Wendy. She wasn't doing fucking _anything_.

Why did that BITCH always have to screw everything up?

*

She was click-click-clicking away on her BB Storm cell phone's touch screen, to (who else?) Bebe. Yes, Wendy was oblivious to the sights of the townspeople around her.

BEBE CELL: **yeah so we're just gonna cut today. just 'cause like, we're still in bed... ;) YOU KNOW lol and other stuff... SO yes. will you pleasee tell stan that kenny isn't going to be in homeroom? xo  
**

WENDY CELL: **LOL I'm jealous! Yeah. Sure I'll tell him. xo  
**

Wendy turned to her boyfriend.

"Stan, Bebe says Kenny won't be in homeroom, so not to wait for him, and... other stuff," Wendy trailed off. She bit her lip, hard, staring down at her white ballet flats. Stan... She wondered if he'd ask _why_ Kenny wasn't coming... 'because he was at home fucking his girlfriend; skipping class; being a sexy bad boy; paying some -- any! -- attention to his girlfriend...' but she knew he wouldn't ask. She could hear his response now. All he would say is "... 'Kay".

She waited. But he didn't say "kay".

He didn't say anything.

"Stan?" Wendy repeated, bringing her eyes to him now. All she got staring back at her was the blue and red backing of his, like _really old_, poof-ball hat. His eyes were fixed straight forward. At...

Oh my god...

Cartman was coming straight towards her, black leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and Kyle pressed behind the other, being lead through the crowd.

And that was when the Blackberry she was just using, and the conversation on it, had completely flown from her memory. The phone slipped between her fingers and hit the gravel pavement near her slippers.

She didn't even blink.

Cartman stopped in front of her, a wide grin applying pressure against the balls of his cheeks, causing them to rise his sunglasses just enough so she could make eye contact with him as he spoke to Kyle. "Haha, the stupid bitch dropped her phone."

and that was it. Then they turned their back on her and went inside.

"What the _fuck_?!?"

Well, atleast Stan finally said something.

* * *

STAN CELL: **what's going on??**

KYLE CELL: **um not much, n you?**

STAN CELL: **i mean what's going on with U. you and cartman...?**

This was enough to give Kyle pause. He'd just been left at his locker by Cartman, whom he shared no classes with this semester (luckily), but who'd instructed him to be early to meet at their usual lunch table for a "performance review", before heading off to his home room. Kyle turned right around in the direction he'd left in to see if he could still see his chubby silhouette - he wanted to ask Cartman what he should write back, to Stan (if anything - this wasn't something Kyle particularly _wanted_ to deal with).

So of course, that was when Stan came down the hall towards Kyle, the redhead going momentarily unnoticed as Stan kept his eyes glued to the still-backlit screen of his phone.

He'd nearly bumped into Kyle by the time he looked up and saw him right there, outside their lockers. "Hey! I just texted you..."

"Yeah" Kyle gestured to the phone, screen still showing Stan's most recent text, in his hand. He slid it shut, "I know."

"So?"

"... So what?"

"What is going _on_?" Stan did a poor job hiding the agitation rising in his voice. "Is it a joke? It's a joke, right?" He narrowed his eyes at Kyle in examination. "A dare? A lost bet?"

"S'not a joke, Stan." Atleast that part was true: there was nothing funny about this.

"When did this happen? I mean, how?"

"Just last night." Another opportunity for truth-telling on Kyle's part.

"But... it's Cartman."

"Yeah. I'm aware."

"Kyle, you _hate_ Cartman"

Kyle chewed scabby bottom of his bright red bottom lip. "Well, you know what they say. There's a thin line between love and hate," he laughed nervously, "and all that..."

Stan lost the agitation; he was beginning to get angry now, and it showed. Instead of reminding himself to restrain, his patience had been long forgotten. "Um, a thin line. Okay. That's what I'd call it when a person gives you AIDS, tries to have your people exterminated, takes you out into the sea with a wiffle bat and--... actually, has tried to have you killed, multiple times... Whatever!" Stan shook his head. "Kyle, what the hell is this?"

"I don't know what to tell you!" Kyle burst out. "It just, it did. I didn't want it to happen."

Telling Stan little truths, Kyle realized, wasn't making this much easier. He could feel Stan getting more desperate in his tone of voice -- he was getting that squeaky quality to it. But what could he do? The truth was... unspeakable.

Why was he even doing this? How the hell had been talked into this? Why did this always fucking happen to him? Stan was so _not_ gay, for him, or anyone.

*

Stan clenched his teeth. Kyle was his best friend. His _super_ best friend. They were supposed to tell each other things like this. Like... if one of them had a sudden change in sexual orientation. Or, if one of them completely loses their minds and starts liking _Cartman_. Or, whatever...

It did kind of really fucking shock Stan that Kyle would never even mention it to him. Like maybe just a casual, 'oh hey Stan, I'm gay' would have been fine. Not just... showing up at school _holding hands_ (seriously, what the _fuck_?) with blimp with a penis.

"I didn't even know you were..."

"What?" Kyle cocked his red head to the side.

"... you know," Stan mumbled.

"A butt muncher?"

"I was going to say 'gay', but well. Yeah."

"It's not something I generally brag about."

"But I'm your _best_ friend." Stan paused. "I am still your best friend, aren't I?" He was still his best friend, _wasn't he_? Stan placed a hand on either side of his head and squeezed. This was all happening too fast.

*

The look in Stan's eyes made Kyle's heart hurt. He hated lying to him. "Of course you are."

"Then... I don't understand!"

"It's not something you have to understand, Stan. Just tolerate."

"No!"

"Pardon?"

"No! I won't tolerate it. You are not gay!"

"Stan," Kyle's apathy was quickly being refilled with anger, "what is your problem?" He took a step forward.

"You!" and Stan turned on his heel and left, leaving Kyle surrounded by a noisy swarm of teens, but feeling more alone than ever.

*sigh* So far, so good...

* * *

"Baaaahahahaahhahaha." Cartman roared with laughter across the table from Kyle.

They were in the back of the cafeteria, seated alone, but quite obviously the center of attention or the rest of the room. Everyone in school had something to say about the new development. Kyle was frankly surprised that any of them even believed any of it - the rest of South Park must have thought both boys had gone insane. Kyle & Cartman: (straight) mortal enemies one day, and lovers the next.

"It's not funny," snapped Kyle. He suddenly regretted telling Cartman anything about his fight with Stan this morning. But the truth was, he had no idea what to do. Now they weren't, like, _talking_ to each other...

"Yes it is! He threw a hissy fit like a jealous little girl! I knew Stan was a pussy, but damn, have some composure." Cartman shook his head sadly.

"He's not a--" Kyle stopped. Arguing with Cartman, he reminded himself, was truly pointless.

*

Cartman had taken no notice that Kyle had even been talking. His mind was busy swimming with self-praise. This was all going according to plan, and it was only day one. If Stan had acted like _that_ after a morning of him dangling Kyle in front of his face, just imagine what he'd do after what Cartman had in store...

Stan would be begging for Kyle in a matter of weeks, exposing his homo-self, and leaving Wendy for...

"Well Kahl, I hate to say I told you so, but..."

"No you don't," Kyle cut him off. "You love saying 'I told you so' just about as much as you like sitting on your big fat ass!"

"'ay! That's how you thank me, you ungrateful jew?"

"Thank you for what?" Kenny asked? Without either of them noticing, he'd slid up behind Cartman with his lunch tray and sat on the bench beside him.

*

"Uhm... for being the best boyfriend ever!"

"Do you always call your boyfriend an ungrateful jew?"

"... when he acts like one, yes," Cartman said.

Well, looking back on it, atleast _Kenny_ had the good sense to notice this was all a load of crap. People don't give that kid enough credit.

But the problem is, he's also got the desire for the entertainment value it could bring. So it's not like _he's_ going to voice his conclusions to anyone. Oh, Kenny...

* * *

"I'm so happy! I'm so happy! This is fucking nuts!!" Bebe jumped up and down, arms in the air, boobs bouncing up and down under her red velor sweater. Kenny's pupils followed their range of motion like ping pong balls bouncing around his irises.

She had burst into the cafeteria, heard from miles away, making her way to their table in half a second despite her 4 and a half inch heels. Kenny and Bebe had been forced to school once Bebe's mom returned home for lunch to find them smoking a giant bong in the living room in their underwear watching Maury._ "and on a SCHOOL day!"_ So despite the couple's protests, Ms. Stevens had driven them to school in plenty of time for the second half of the day. Kenny joined his friends at their usual table at the back of the cafeteria first, and after doing her makeup quickly (this is "quickly" by a woman's standards...) in the bathroom, she'd run right over to rejoin her boyfriend and investigate if the latest piece of gossip she'd received in her inbox was true...

and it was. Kyle and Cartman were dating.

"I CANNOT believe that you two are _fucking dating_!" she screamed and continued her dance. "ThisisthemostamazingthingIhaveeverheard! This is amazing. This is AMAZING. Okay, so tell me everything. No, no, no wait, let me guess how it happened... hmm. It wasn't on MSN, was it? Because that is sooo lame. Ohmygod, I am SO happy for you guys!" She threw her arms around Cartman first, still jumping up and down, and then Kyle, squeezing her breasts into his face so hard that his eyes bulged out like a toy from over her shoulder.

"Careful with those things Bebe, I don't want you turning my boyfriend straight," Cartman said slyly.

Kenny smacked him instinctually. "Don't talk about my girlfriends boobs."

Bebe blinked. "Ohmygod. Did you just-- did you just call Kyle your _BOYFRIEND_? Awwwwwwwww! AWWWWWWWWWW!! Oh my god. Are you two in love?"

"Well, I--"

"Wait!" she cut Cartman's sentence off with an energetic thrust forward of her bare palm, as an act of silencing the table for attention. "I brought weed. So lets go outside and celebrate! Kenny, can you--"

"Way ahead of you Bebs*." Kenny fished around his pocket for rolling papers and a grinder.

"Ohmygod, thank you! I love you, babe! Okay, lets go!"

"Sweet ass!" Cartman exclaimed, rising from his seat.

"I-- I have to get to class..." mumbled Kyle like he had a mouth full of marbles. The other three looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head.

"I don't get it. Kyle's finally getting laid, yet he's still lame," Kenny joked. Everyone laughed, and Kyle made a face. To the others, it seemed like a reaction to the teasing, but it was truthfully a look of disgust upon visualizing himself being 'laid' by... Cartman. ~_shudder_

"Okay, okay. Leave him alone, even if he is lame," Cartman winked. Kyle resisted the urge to hurl. Bebe put her two hands together in an 'awwing' emotion and smiled dreamily.

"I'll walk you to class, babe" Cartman said to his pretend-boyfriend. "Meet you guys at my car?"

"Babe!" Bebe exclaimed, tugging at Kenny's sleeve. "Cartman just called Kyle 'babe'! Isn't that soo cute, babe?" she asked her boyfriend.

"Adorable," he grinned.

* * *

adorable. :) see you all next time!xo

* [pronounced Baybs]


	4. school daze

* * *

okay okay oh my gosh, all these reviews are making me blush. they make me smile all day. eeee i LOVE you people who review! i just want to squeeze you forever. i wish we could like, hang out and watch south park! and stuff.

* * *

you don't like me & I Don't Like You

* * *

chapter two|II|

* * *

**school daze**

* * *

Cartman plastered on a shit-eating-grin and waved goodbye. As soon as Kenny and Bebe were out of earshot, he turned back to Kyle, beady hazel eyes focusing on him from across the table. Kyle hitched in his breath on instinct whenever Cartman made eye-contact with him. It was the most uncomfortable feeling, being stared at by Cartman; he would smirk and stare into your eyes, cogs turning wheels inside his brain, his thoughts never deciphered by anyone. But as soon as he caught you, he'd almost forget you were there, smirking his malicious fat-shit grin to himself and deciding god-knows-what about you.

Kyle darted his eyes away as soon as he found the courage. He distracted himself by scanning eyes across the thinning cafeteria. The bell was ought to ring soon and everyone was clearing out to get their stuff ready. As his viper-greens surveyed their surroundings, he noticed Cartman wasn't the only one staring at him - they all were. Every chatty clique the caf was composed of had a member or two staring directly at Kyle and the fat retard he was sitting with. They spoke to each other with giggles and whispers, and he shrunk a little under his hat.

"Everyone is talking about us..." Kyle said uneasily.

"Yep." Cartman reclined back in his plastic cafeteria chair, basking in the same glow of gazes that Kyle so desperately shied from. "Everyone wants a piece of Cartle."

"_Cartle_?"

"You know... Cartman + Kyle. That's what they're gonna be calling us. It's one of those shipper names, you know? We've reached, like, celebrity status at this school."

Kyle was surprised that he could still be_ surprised_ by Cartman's stupidity, at this point. Blinking, Kyle tried to control his speech a he responded to his idiotic friend. "One, that is fucking retarded, and two, Cartle is a stupid name. If anything, we would be called Kyman..."

"_Kyman_? That's fucking retarded."

"No it isn't. You just want your name first, fat boy."

"'ay!"

"Why are we even debating this?" Kyle put his head in his hands. Cartman cooled slightly and blinked at Kyle, a little shocked.

"These are important details for a couple to cover, Kahl."

"That's just it," Kyle snapped. "We are not a couple. We never will be a couple."

"If you want this to work, you need to start taking this a lot more seriously." Cartman raised an eyebrow and reached his hand towards Kyle's. "Join me, Kahl, on this magiiiical journeh."

Kyle ripped his hand from out of Cartman's grasp like it was being scalded by lava. "Don't touch me," he hissed. "Let's just go."

He rose from the seat and gestured for Cartman to follow him to calculus. Cartman stood. Slowly. Carefully. He smirked at Kyle, and began to once again imitate his voice. "_Oooh! I just musn't be late for claaaass!_ Pussy."

Kyle grit his teeth and pointed a pale finger at Cartman's fat face. "How does actually _going_ to class instead of getting stoned like you idiots make me pussy, exactly?"

Cartman laughed. "Heh. Right. So you are seriously _never_ going to do drugs?"

"Nope."

Cartman sighed. "Let me tell you something, okay Kahl? Drugs... are cool."

"What!?" exclaimed Kyle.

"Forget what people say, okay? Just for once in your life..." Cartman then imitated Mr. Mackey perfectly, and said: "_Drugs are _good, _mmkay_ Kahl?"

"... damn that was a good Mr. Mackey impression," he responded.

"Once again Kahl, you miss the point. Entirely." Cartman shook his head. "Entirely. Dude, it's bad enough you even remember the name of our old guidance counselor."

"Dude! He was our teacher for, like, 15 years!"

"Yeah but that was in the past, man. We were just kids."

*

"We were just kids..." Cartman's words rang through Kyle's head as he officially gapped out of the conversation.

Well, what the hell were they now?

Not kids, Kyle assumed.

At times like these, the wise words of Chef, their dearly departed friend & homeboy, would ring through his head. They were as clear as a bell, just as they were the day he spoke them.

"Seventeen. The perfect age to start having sex is... seventeen."

"You mean seventeen _if you're ready_," his mother had piped in, eyes flushing red.

"Nope," Chef replied. "Just seventeen. You're ready."

Kyle didn't feel ready! Dude!

Sure, when you're little seventeen sounds pretty old... but it's not. One day he was 8 years old, and then (bam!) the next, he's seventeen. It's like Kyle had no memories in between.

and now all of these _things_ were just all of a sudden expected of him. Like, you know? Like, he had to like girls.

... or boys.

Whatever.

Maybe Kyle was "bi-curious", or "confused", or maybe he was just a... Stansexual.

Fucking god damn, Kyle hated being seventeen. and he missed Chef, too.

So yes, he was the only virgin in the group. and the only one who still refused to smoke weed. Whatever. Being cool is overrated. and so is being happy...

*

The odd couple walked together until they arrived at Kyle's next class.

"So, are you sure you don't want to come smoke, man?" Kyle gave him a nasty sneer and Cartman threw up his hands. "Fuck, whatever. Screw you Kahl, imma go get high." But instead of walking away, he froze, eyes suddenly fixated on behind Kyle's head.

"What?" Kyle asked of this strange behavior.

"Stan," Cartman voiced somehow without moving his lips (ventriloquism did turn out to be a handy skill to have in the real world after all, Kyle mused). "He's right behind you. Just play along."

Kyle froze, for once actually thankful he had Cartman around for leadership. The possibility of Stan's eyes being on him made him scared to even move an inch. 'Will Stan talk to me yet?' Kyle wondered inside his stimulated mind. 'Is he still mad?'

Kyle didn't have much more time to think it over before Cartman scared the living shit out of him. Immediately, Cartman slammed one fist right above where Kyle lay the side of his head against the metal locker. Hard.

"Ahgh!" Kyle winced, cowering in fear and ducking a few extra inches under the pudgy fist. Every single person in the hallway went dead silent, and stared at Cartle/Kyman, waiting for what they would do next.

"So. Babe," Cartman announced to the entire hallway. and holy fuck, Kyle could feel the heat of every eyeball in the world upon him at the moment. "I'll catch you after class." He then finally looked at Kyle, who hadn't found the courage to stand straight again.

Erecting his posture, Kyle stared back at Cartman, who was much closer than Kyle had ever hoped to be to him."Oh-okay... Eric." Kyle attempted at a smile. Failure.

and then Cartman did one of the strangest, most horrifying things Kyle had ever seen him do. Ever.

He kissed Kyle. Gasps of their fellow classmates were heard all around at once.

It was a chaste kiss to the lips, not lasting too long at all, but for Kyle the moment felt like an eternity. Like two slugs, they were, Cartman's lips on his. Cartman's full bottom lip dissolved Kyle's, his kiss overpowering him with the force of sucking ants into a vacuum cleaner.

Kyle wasn't sure if he was about to hurl or pass out when Cartman pulled away from him, but all he managed to do was lay slumped against the locker and stare blindly ahead as Cartman continued to put on a show for the hallway.

But as his eyes followed Cartman out, he winked at Stan, who went red all over his face (and Wendy, who just went red from her eyes. Stupid bitch).

Kyle had seen Stan pissed many times before. He'd seen him after Sparky was hit with a car. He'd seen him after Wendy dumped him for Token, and he'd seen him lose at NHL '09 more times than he could count. But holy shit, Stan was really pissed this time. Like, really pissed.

His tummy lurched, and Kyle longed to go up to Stan, talk to him, anything... but his frail body was keeping him bent back against the locker, still too in shock to decide on anything he could possibly say to remedy the situation. Kyle tried to catch his eyes, but Stan stormed off in the opposite direction, away from the class the boys shared together and down the hall. He left a very confused Wendy trailing behind.

He was slumped against a locker, watching the love of his life run away from him, his lips still moist with Cartman's saliva...

Kyle wondered just when _exactly_ his life had gone from bad to worse?

* * *

What the FUCK?

Wendy stormed into the bathroom that had a girl sign on it, hardly checking to ensure she was alone before throwing her purse angrily on the counter and staring in the mirror. She gripped the countertop with the tips of her fingers, teeth gritted and eyes aflame as she stared at her angry reflection.

Seriously, what the FUCK?

She'd followed Stan for exactly three steps before deciding to not even bother. Let him sulk. Although it wasn't exactly clear what he was sulking about...

Fuck Stan. and fuck his precious Kyle. Fuck Bebe for not showing up to school today when she so _totally _needed her right now. and fuck that stupid fucking _gay_ Cartman.

Since when was Cartman gay, anyways? and seriously, with Kyle? The FUCK?

What she had witnessed was just plain strange, even by South Park standards. It was so strange she was almost sure it didn't happen, and the imagination buried beneath her bored mind had just taken advantage of an opportunity to play a trick on her.

Kyle and Cartman were ENEMIES. Why the fuck were they kissing? and why the FUCK did Stan care so much?

She glared at herself in the mirror. Atleast she didn't look as erratic and out of control as she felt. Well, thank god for still allowing her to have her _looks_ at a time like this.

Her lips were still pink, still glossy (thanks to Stan foregoing a goodbye kiss). Her hair was straight, long, black, and surprisingly un-frizzy. It hung down past her breasts, except for where she had blunt bangs cut across the ridge of her eyebrows. She huffed a puff of air out through the side of her mouth, blowing up her bangs for a wind-swept effect. Her beret was carefully placed, the rest of her makeup was fine... she supposed she should go back to class. But what was the point?

What was the point of any of this?

"Am I not hot enough for him anymore, or something?" she asked the mirror, seething. Wendy glared at her reflection, disgusted with herself. When had she let it happen? How did it all get like this?

Maybe their relationship had just run it's natural course? Maybe all good things must come to an end, and so on?

These feelings were new and confusing. "No one likes change at first, though," she thought to herself. "I must remember that."

She almost resolved to let Stan go before, all of a sudden, she changed her mind.

Well FUCK that!

Let Stan sulk about all he wanted, that pussy. She was still a woman. and _she_ still knew how to seduce a man.

*

Wendy left the bathroom and headed for science. Taking her usual seat at the three person desk in the middle-right row of the class, she noticed that not just the one, but both of the seats next to her were empty. She supposed to she should be happy that Cartman hadn't turned up on a day that Bebe was cutting class - she didn't have to deal with his nonsense, for now, anyways. Today, both of her usual chatty seatmates were absent. Today, they had left her there alone to sulk.

"Great, just what I need," she thought to herself. She took the opportunity to think about what she would do about her boyfriend. He was still _technically_ her boyfriend. and she planned on keeping it that way.

Wendy sighed. Men think with their dicks; every woman knows that. She knew what had to be done.

* * *

"Ohhh, that feels nice," cooed Kenny, on the exit of the exhalation of a large puff of smoke. The mouth-watering, distinguished smell of marijuana (grown with love) reached Cartman's nostrils, and he took a larger sniff. Kenny's single toke had filled the small area of his car and surrounded them like a cloud guarding a secret.

He reached a pudgy hand towards Kenny, but his dirty-blond friend was too fast for him.

"Rollers rights, Cartman," Kenny said calmly, opening exactly one of his closed eyes to look at his fattest friend. It was met with a scowl.

"It's my car you poor piece of shit. Gi'me the weed!"

"You'll get the weed," said Kenny, "when it's _your_ turn." He used his left hand to pass the burning spliff to his girlfriend, on his right, in the passenger seat of Cartman's car.

"You are a fucking piece of shit."

"Cartman!" Bebe chided, taking the joint between forefinger & thumb. "Have you no weed etiquette?"

"He's so fucking warped I doubt he's even heard of weed etiquette," offered Kenny.

"You are so fucking stupid I'm surprised you can pronounce the word etiquette," Cartman sneered at him. Kenny returned with a single middle finger tenting his brown mittens. He zipped up his parka over his mouth and nose to slave off the cold winter around them.

"Boys, boys!" giggled Bebe upon exhalation of a large toke, which filled the front of the car with it's acrid scent. Cartman's mouth watered in anticipation, as it often did when presented with pleasurable stimuli.

"Rollers rights means that the person who rolled the joint always gets to spark it," she continued. "Although if the person who pitches the weed was not the roller, and wishes to override this rule, that is a notable exception."

Cartman stared at her, invidiously. "Just hurry up with that."

Bebe, spliff raised just about to her lips, stopped to lower her hand when she responded to the fat boy. "and that's another thing!" she exclaimed, waving the joint in his direction. Cartman snatched for it, but she pulled her hand back just in time, continuing her train of thought. Kenny watched the scene from his reclined position in Cartman's backseat, laughing beneath the threadbare orange material which covered his mouth. Bebe was, of course, oblivious to the whole thing, and continued her thought process as Cartman groaned in agony. "You can never _ask_ someone to pass a spliff. This is a session, so it's acceptable to take your time, as long as you don't canoe the joint."

Bebe paused to examine the spliff between her fingers. She licked the balls of two fingers on her free hand, and both boys glued their eyes to the soft pink tongue which darted between her lips. After moistening her fingers, she ran them along the burning top of the joint, making it wet where fire meets paper.

"As for how much time you _take_ with a joint, three-hit-pass is acceptable." She turned to face her boyfriend momentarily. "Right, Kenny?"

Kenny smiled beneath his coat and nodded. While Bebe had her back turned on her hand, Cartman attempted to reach for the joint with thick fingers and snatch it while she wasn't watching. But Bebe flipped curls over her shoulder and whipped back around just in time, Cartman's plan failed.

"Who made you the queen of fucking marijuana?" he scowled at her pretty face.

"I did," she smiled, not even bothering to justify her point. She took a slow third hit, and exhaled. She held it over Cartman's ashtray which she knew, from memory, he kept in the dash. A long red fingernail collided with the top of the joint, and a long trail of ash dissolved into the pile below.

She passed the joint to Cartman.

Finally.

He raised it to his lips and breathed deep, letting smoke fill his lungs and holding it in there until the feeling was no longer foreign to his body, then he exhaled. Along with it came a lazy smile which stretched across his pudgy face on the smoke's way out of his mouth. It felt good. He felt good. and it was all thanks to this little green plant. He hit it again, greedily, feeling his anxieties wash away.

With his second exhale, out came questions of whether his plan would work, whether she even cared, or whether this was even what _he_ wanted... it all melted away; dissolved in a haze of smoke. The foggy interior of the car had now turned all their frowns into smiles. That was just the power of the lord-ah (whoever that mother fucker turned out to be).

Just then, Kenny laughed, for no reason at all. Waves of light, loving, laugher reverberated to the ears of the other two children in the car and they both laughed, too. A long, slow drawl. It was reminiscent of an old Cheech and Chong movie; like low-pitched giggles.

Kenny had already unzipped his hood in anticipation of Cartman's pass. Bebe took the spliff, ashing it for him first, and then casually held it between two fingers like a cigarette as she passed it back to Kenny.

"So," she said, pretending to examine a non-existent chip of white in her red. She fanned her fingers and stretched out her arm as an attempt to come off casually. "Kyle didn't want to come smoke with us?"

"Pfft," Cartman scoffed. "No, he didn't. You know Kahl."

"Maybe I don't know Kyle," Bebe said, innocently, looking up from her nails with her long dark lashes. "Not as well as I thought I did, anyways. Because Kyle's been doing a lot of things lately that the Kyle _I_ know would never do."

Kenny laughed in agreement from the back seat. Bebe turned to collect the cigarette from him as his turn ended and he zipped his parka back over his mouth.

"I thought maybe this was some kind of kinky, adventurous phase Kyle was going through after years of doing nothing fun," Cartman was able to make out through Kenny's muffled coat (a talent acquired in early childhood, since the beginning of their "friendship").

"Oh ha ha ha. You only brought me out here to pump me for details. Bebe, I'm ashamed of you right noaw," Cartman said, closing his eyes and slightly bowing his head, chins condensing against each other.

Bebe looked to Kenny for something to say to the suddenly-solemn Cartman, and Cartman took this opportunity to snatch the spliff from her hand.

"Hey!" Bebe squealed. "I only got two hits!"

"Weed etiquette my ass," laughed Cartman. "You have to go after what you want in life, Bebe," he instructed her, dragging on the joint.

"Mffs mffat mmfow mu mot Myle?" Kenny laughed from the back seat.

Bebe, recognizing what he said, burst into a laughter she couldn't contain if she wanted to. Cartman went red as he realized what Kenny said: "is that how you got Kyle?"

"'ay! Screw you guys!"

"Come on _Eric_," Bebe smiled wickedly. "Just give me some details. We're dying here!" Kenny nodded empathetically and Cartman plastered on the meanest, most irritated looking scowl he could muster.

"You guys are so fucking gay. and _you_ are not allowed to call me Eric," he said.

"Kyle is!"

"That's different!! Kyle's my boyfriennnnnnn-daaa... shit," Cartman mumbled.

Bebe's eyes lit up. "Your b-b-b-b-BOYFRIEND?" she giggled. "THAT IS SO CUTE. GOD."

"Here we go again." Cartman rolled his eyes while Kenny began to laugh harder.

Stars replaced Bebe's pupils as her face lit up into a brilliant smile. "I had always kind of figured about Kyle. You know? That he was... you know," she gestured, allowing the other guests in the car to fill in her blanks. "But, _never_ did I ever expect Eric Cartman to be a homosexual! This is so exciting!"

"It is pretty exciting," Kenny agreed, still smiling.

"You have very strange sexual preferences. Both of you deserve each other."

"Aww thanks!"

"Not a compliment, Bebe!"

"Oh?" She looked at him, confused, with her blonde head slightly tilted to the side. But she recovered quickly, remembering her priorities here. "You've got to tell me how it happened, Cartman," said Bebe, sticking out the wet inside of her bottom lip and transforming it into the most adorable pout known to mankind. "Plee_ee_ase!?"

Who could resist that _face_? Certainly not a guy who was only pretending to be gay, that's for sure. Cartman prided himself on the fact that he was much stronger than most, but could any straight man really resist the pleas of Bebe Stevens? He'd like to see that.

"It was at Stark's Pond," he started. Not a lie.

"Oooohhh hoo hoo, it's starting!" giggled Bebe, snuggling against her seat like Cartman was about to begin an epic tale, and she was getting settled in for story time.

"Ugh," Cartman sighed, noticing Bebe's dreamy expression. "You are so annoying."

"and then?" she nodded enthusiastically.

"I was at Stark's Pond, I called him over, and then... you know."

"No," both Bebe and a (now _very_ high) Kenny said together. They waited in baited breath for Cartman to reveal the details of his affair with Kyle.

Cartman sighed, rolling his eyes. "and then we... we just starting doing gay... stuff. You know?"

"No," they both repeated. Their tones demanded clarification.

He crossed his arms with frustration. Jesus Christ, Bebe was the one who was supposed to be an expert on all this gay shit, not him. "Use your imagination, you dumb twat!" is what he wanted to say. But instead, Cartman said, "we starting getting gay. God Bebe, you're the one who is supposed to know how this works, you homo-lover."

"You started getting gay? You mean you hooked up right there at Stark's?" Bebe's eyes lit up again.

"Sick, dude!" said Kenny, very excited.

"No!" blurted out Cartman, going red. "No no we... confessed our _feelings_ for each other, you guys."

"Oh my god..." Bebe mumbled, wide-eyed. Cartman grinned. That seemed satisfactory for her.

"Cartman has feelings?" Kenny asked no one in particular, passing Bebe what remained of the canon of a spliff he had rolled.

It was _then_ that Bebe got skeptical. Damn that Bebe, she wasn't _quite_ as dumb as she looked. Well, not all the time.

"What _kind _of feelings?" she asked between drags, eyebrow arched in his general direction.

He gulped. Dammit. She knew he wouldn't know the answer to that. "Y-you know. Gay ones."

"No," they repeated again together. "We don't know," finished Bebe.

Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well what did you say to him, when he got there?" Bebe asked.

"I-I can't remember, exactly." Bebe's smile flatlined. Shit. "I mean I don't remember _exactly_ the words I used, but..." Fuck. Cartman needed to think of something to tell these fuckers, and fast.

Bebe finished her drag, and passed the burning spliff to Cartman. She waited, her breath still baited, for his next sentence, as she watched him hungrily lift her present to his lips.

Cartman was grateful for the extra time it provided. He frowned at the joint in his hand, noticing that probably only one round remained. He held the end of it by the filter with short, bluntly-cut fingernails as he took a long, harsh hit which singed his lips and the tips of his fingers. Leaning his head back, he began to exhale smoke in tiny rings which spread exponentially as they flew out of his curved mouth and hit the smoky air in the car, cutting through it like a plane flying though clouds. He felt the effects reach his brain and could practically hear his neurons thanking them, as he pictured his brain cells floating down the Lazy River Ride at Disney World, in those yellow inflatable rings. Hazy pot smoke filled the air within his brain.

"I told him that I hated him." Cartman finally said, beginning to construct his story. He knew this would become "the" story he and Kyle would have to tell everyone for the next couple weeks (or however long this would last... Cartman gulped). But then again - Bebe would probably tell everyone else _for _him. She was, ermm, _helpful_ that way...

This was obviously not what Bebe wanted to hear, however, so she simply stared, waiting for him to go on and say something more pleasing to her Libran ear.

He thought about why he was here in the first place. For _her_. He was doing this plan for _love_.

Yuck.

Cartman closed his eyes. "and then I told him what that meant, to me. To hate someone. In my life I've hated a lot of people. People of all shapes and sizes, all ages, genders and races. People with all sorts of disabilities - I've hated them all as equals."

Cartman paused for dramatic effect. His speech became more passionate. "But never, ever in my 17 years of life, have I hated anymore more than that sneaky little jew rat."

Cartman ashed what was left of the joint, and went on...

*

"So basically I told him all that, and then he just kinda stood there, staring at me, not saying anything... just like you are now! Kind of," said Cartman, motioning to a wide-eyed and silent Bebe. "and then we kissed." Bebe swooned and Cartman twisted his face into a grimace.

"and yeah. Then, basically, we were just... together."

"That is so romantic," Bebe cooed.

"Yeah I guess."

"Wow," she repeated once more before willing herself out of fangirl mode. "Okay, okay. I'm cool. So _Eric_..."

_Eric_ cringed. "What?"

She raised a suspiciously shy eyebrow in his direction. "Dooo... you wanna hangout today?"

"Yeah. sure," he agreed. "Meet here at 2:30," he said, warning her not to be late.

"Kay." She munched happily on the tip of her thumbnail. "Shall I just walk with Kyle to your car, then?"

"No," Cartman said, quickly. "Kid's walking home." No way he was having that Jew in his car unnecessarily, mooching off of him for a ride. Not like the Jew was ever going to offer to pitch for gas money, like Bebe did. Bebe was actually polite, plus she brought drugs. and Cartman was still too grossed out by having to kiss Kyle that he really didn't want to stomach seeing him again until he had to. He needed the rest of the day to get the stench of Kyle's Jew body off of him.

"He won't be joining us?" frowned Bebe. "Too bad. I was looking forward to teasing you."

"I know you were. Why else do you think I agreed to hang out with you?" he grinned. "Kahl has homework," he added, mostly so Bebe would avoid asking more questions.

"Oh." It worked, for the most part. Bebe had pulled up the edge of her red velor sweater to her knuckles. She continued to suck her thumbnail. "So, can we play Arkham Asylum?" she grinned.

Cartman scowled. "For god sakes Bebe, all you want to play is fucking Batman."

She pouted. "All Kenny has is Halo 3! and it's not even online! Do you know how many times I've beaten those campaigns?"

"Well I do have online multi-player, so you can talk to the nerds over the headset while I saw them in half! Team work, remember?"

She folded her arms. "Cartman, I do not want to play Halo anymore. I'm so sick of killing little men in suits. It's boring!" she exclaimed. "I want to kill zombies and monsters and cool stuff. I wanna see some real action, you know?"

"She likes to see their faces when they die," Kenny piped in from the backseat, explaining her comment.

"Okay, so Bioshock," Cartman said, as if arriving at the only logical solution.

"_Bioshock_?" deadpanned Bebe. "Are you serious? Kenny?" she asked her boyfriend, turning around to see him bundled in the backseat, doing something on his phone. "Is he serious?" she turned back to Cartman. "Bioshock is _so_ 2007."

"Well so_oo_orry Miss Cutting Edge, it only won Game of the Year."

"Um, yeah... only like, forever ago."

*

She said the same stupid shit as the other only girl his age Cartman wanted anything to do with, except it didn't anger him the way it did when Wendy said it. When Bebe argued with him, said dumb girly things, and generally just annoyed the fuck out of him with her "questions" and her "manners" and her "self-improvement tips" and her "low-fat dairy" (seriously, what the fuck? Low-fat? How did Kenny _live_ with this chick?), he didn't have the urge to smack the shit out of her like he did when Wendy spoke. When _Wendy_ challenged him, _she_ didn't accompany her words with a pleasant smile or a flirty giggle. When _she_ challenged him, her words were flaming arrows and the hatred in her eyes made the burn from their sting all the harsher.

It was the hatred in her eyes that made him want to pull his hair out of his skull. It was that damn look she gave him that set his soul on fire. He liked Bebe (and she was hot - probably just as hot as Wendy, in most people's eyes; maybe even moreso, in some), and he did like being around her too, but not the way he liked having Wendy around.

Although he couldn't think of one singular fucking thing he even _liked_ about Wendy. She was so god damned... annoying. Except for the fact that since she looked at him like that, and reacted to him so harshly, that she might... hate him. Hate him in the same way he hated her. The way that blurred lines with love. It was just the fact that a girl that _hot_ got so riled up when he didn't agree with her. Most people had learned how to brush Cartman off by now: some had learned to live with his behaviour, others avoided him altogether, and others still were too stupid to remember they should stop opposing him. and then there were people like _Wendy_. She still challenged him, still tested him, and still seemed genuinely shocked that Cartman had never grown up and grown a set of morals, like she'd always expected him too eventually. It was like Wendy still believed there was some good in Cartman that he, and everyone else, was ignoring...

What did she see in him? He longed to know.

*

"Fine, we'll play Arkham," Cartman finally said, as he felt the smoke in the car - and his brain - being to clear. "I get to be Posion Ivy. She's fucking hot."

Bebe clasped her hands together, obviously pleased with the decision, and with getting her way yet again. Even grumpy Cartman was no obstacle for the charms of Bebe Stevens. "I'm Harley Quinn! Obviously."

"Who you wanna be, Kinny?" asked Cartman. "Two-face?"

"Can't come," Kenny answered, still absorbed in his phone.

"Why not, babe?" Bebe cooed, curious.

"Got work today, with your step-dad. He's texting me right now."

"Ohhhhh." Bebe paused. "Oh babe, I should come with you."

"Nonsense! This is guy stuff!" Kenny silenced her. "You two girls should go have fun. Make Harley and Ivy lezz out." Kenny grinned widely.

"We've already tried." giggled Bebe, looking back to Cartman momentarily.

"It's true," he added. "Believe me, we've tried. We even googled hacks for it. No go."

"Pfft," Kenny pouted. "How is that authentic Batman? Best superhero video game ever, my ass."

"I know, right? It's just not Batman if Harley isn't allowed make out with her red-headed BFF!" Bebe frowned.

"Seriously," the two boys said in unison.

* * *

Fuck that stupid fucking Jew.

Thanks to him, this had been one of Stan's shittest days in a long time. Possibly, ever.

After watching Kyle inexplicably let that fat asshole put his hands all over him outside calc class, Stan felt the overwhelming urge to vomit and rip his hair out and scream, all at the same time. Before doing any of the three, he somehow gained enough composure to make his way out the to courtyard, where he proceeded to anxiously pace about while sucking the shit out of a cancer stick. Back and forth, back and forth.

All he could think about was how this made _no_ sense. No fucking sense at all. Stan had known Kyle for seventeen years and he was _not fucking gay_. Kyle had never shown an interest in guys before! Ever! He'd never shown an interest... in anyone.

He was just Kyle.

"Maybe he's only gay for one person?" Stan thought to himself. "Maybe Kyle wasn't _gay_, but he just fell in love. He- he fell in love with Caaaartm—"

_*shudder*_ Stan had to replace his apathy with anger. His nausea was returning and the fact that he _couldn't stop thinking about this_ was not helping his cause.

When he finished, no one was in the hallways, so he somehow stumbled back into math class.

"So nice of you to join us," the teacher had said when Stan arrived. He didn't hear anything, having been caught in Kyle's line of sight upon entering the classroom. There they were. Those _eyes_, full of the emotional toll that the silence between them was taking on Kyle. All sad, and curious, and guilty, and _gay_ looking. Stan couldn't take their intensity, and sat in the seat closest to the front door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. Immediately he regretted the decision to return to class in the first place, and he put his head down on the desk.

He couldn't even look at Kyle anymore. He couldn't even _breathe_ around Kyle anymore. It's like... like everything was different now. Stan couldn't just go back.

* * *

Kyle stopped his self moping when the sight of Stan walking into the math room shocked the shit out of him. He reeked of nicotine from all the way in the back of the classroom, his eyes were rimmed red, and his cheeks were hollow. He hadn't eaten all day, Kyle supposed. Stan actually looked quite ill, and instinctively, Kyle felt the protective urge to hug him and bring him soup until the rosy red undertones of his porcelain skin returned. Because he didn't look like Stan; he looked sad & sickened.

All of a sudden, Stan looked to Kyle, and the redhead nervously tugged at the green strings hanging from either side of his hat, bringing it's spongy brim down to the edge of his eyes, to try and hide himself. But even then, he could not bring himself to break Stan's eye contact.

That was his job, Kyle figured; just as soon as he had looked over, his eye contact was gone again. Stan whipped around and slung himself into possibly the furthest seat from Kyle in the class, at the front-right, near the open door.

"Maybe- maybe he needs air?" Kyle thought to himself. "Maybe that's why he doesn't come back here and sit with me..."

Kyle stared at the back of Stan's slumped shoulders and sighed. He showed no intentions on moving. He slid open his phone, hoping for some sort of distraction. The last text message he'd received was the one Stan had sent him earlier this morning. **i mean what's going on with U. you and cartman...?** Kyle shivered as he re-read the text. "Sent at 7:54am" the screen told him. It was now 1:14pm, and Stan was STILL acting like Kyle didn't exist? They hadn't gone more than 5 hours without talking... in a long time. Certainly not since they'd gotten cell phones. How long was he planning on holding out? He wasn't showing any intentions on talking to Kyle in the near future, either.

Kyle gulped, butterflies tying a knot out of his nervous stomach. Oh man, it was hopeless. There was no point in torturing himself like this any longer. Kyle leaned back in the small wooden chair and closed his eyes. "If I try hard enough," Kyle thought, "maybe I can shut myself off from the world. If only for a moment."

But all Kyle's brain did as soon as he shut his eyes, was picture Stan naked again.

Fuck hormones.

He shot his eyes back open again, forced to wait out the rest of the period.

* * *

Stan had pretended to take notes for the rest of the period, but really, all he did was watch the clock, and wait for it to run it's course so he could get the fuck out of there, and away from the eyes he felt burning into his back.

Now it was the end of the day and Stan was more than happy to be at his locker, far away from everyone else he knew, and shoving shit he knew he'd never actually _read_ into his bag, so he could go the fuck home.

Fuck that stupid fucking Jew.

So Kyle wasn't his best anymore. So what? Stan still had _tons_ of friends who wanted to hang out with him.

Um.

Like... Kenny, and... Craig? and, well... er - who else?

"Staa_aa_an!"

and Wendy! His best friend of all (now, anyways). His _girl_friend. He waved at her.

"Hi." She brought herself right up to him and swayed, shifting her weight to the tips of her toes and back down onto the balls of her feet. "How are you doing?"

Oh no... not the sympathy. Stan loathed sympathy.

"Aw man..."

"Okay, okay. Let's talk about something else," Wendy offered, sensing his anguish over her question. "Like you, coming over after school today." She said it so fast she wasn't sure if she'd even set it outloud.

For a second. Until she saw his facial reaction. A cute little 'o'. Wendy grinned wickedly. Stan knew what that meant.

* * *

bye bye, kisses all over your face!

and remember, next time we're rated: MATURE! so alert alert! i've got so much fun planned for you guys :D teehee~

oh my gosh, and do you have any thoughts on the new episodes we've had so far this year? do you know what i am saying? :) it's been an incredible start, i'd say! matt and trey, you NEVER cease to amaze me! xo


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